


Intermission

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1545047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashlea allows herself a little indulgence, and learns a little about herself and Oliver both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermission

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [New Cues](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495072) by [ilyena_sylph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph), [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly). 



> While we are not certain this is 'canon' for Daughters of Gotham, it was a muse-wandering that we decided to share. We do intend for there to be a future entanglement, so this is one way it *could* start.

Ashlea pushed the last of the paperwork into its file jacket, then glanced at the clock. "I kept you later than I expected," she told Oliver.

Oliver took the papers with a shrug, rolling his shoulders to ease the tensions in them. "Not as though I had anything else to do tonight," he said, easy and amused. "And I'm pretty sure you're the best company in this town." 

He was definitely looking more at the woman next to him at the desk than the papers in his hands. They promised salvation for his company, a direction to go that would help keep his people employed and his own conscience eased... but he was still more captivated by her than them. Her, especially in the aftermath that faintly startling interruption. 

Okay, no, more than faintly startling. One, that there was someone who could just walk into Wayne Manor, into her personal study, and casually intrude into her time... and two, that even a welcome friend with that permission to intrude had been sent packing on his way because she wasn't through with their work. 

And _how_ she'd sent him packing... 

She gave him a laugh for those words, shaking her head. "Oh, I know I could find us both far better company than I am," Ashlea said. "I didn't think we'd work all the way to dinner time." She set the full proposal into her briefcase to carry in the next morning. She brought her attention back to Oliver then, considering if she was still piqued enough at Harvey to invite Oliver to stay for dinner.

"I doubt that," Oliver answered her shaking head and laugh, while he smiled back at her. She was giving him a thoughtful look of her own, and he took a slow breath. If he pissed her off right now, moved the wrong way, it could put his entire company in danger -- not that he thought an honest offer would, but -- "Neither did I, but I'm not at all complaining. ...do you have any recommendations for dinner as good as that bistro we went to for lunch?" 

That decided her. Oliver was polite, even when the edges of his playboy nature peeked out. "I do. You stay here and share dinner with me," Ashlea told him. "Alfred always makes more than enough, and I did keep you out late."

"...thank you, very much," Oliver answered that, startled and pleased by that offer. "That sounds wonderful. You have a gorgeous home, I don't think I mentioned that earlier." 

"All credit for that goes to my ancestors and Alfred's care of it," Ashlea told him. She stood, straightening and stretching slightly to ease her muscles. Being still never much set well with her. "Come on; I'll tell Alfred to set another place." She set action to words, leading him down to the kitchen. "While it's being readied, I could show you more of the Manor, if you like?" It would be polite, and Ashlea did have pride in her heritage.

"Lead the way," Oliver said with a smile at her -- he _certainly_ wasn't going to mind that view. Though he was pretty sure that there _was_ no view of this woman he would mind... and he certainly didn't mind letting her lead, either. Not after -- he yanked his thoughts back under control. 

Ashlea guided her guest back to the kitchen, where Alfred was in the midst of preparing the meal. "Alfred..."

"Mister Queen will be joining you for dinner, yes, Miss Wayne," Alfred said without missing a beat. Ashlea shook her head, then looked at Oliver. 

"Forever knowing my mind before I do. I can't exist without him to watch over me," she praised her guardian to the businessman. There was nothing but honest affection and admiration in her voice, none of the established rich views of 'the help'.

Oliver smiled for a moment. He had to wonder what his life might be like if he had someone like that in his life, but he never could keep staff more than a few months. ...especially not now, not with the secrets he was keeping. But it had to be nice. "Pleasure to meet you then, sir," he said, not about to be impolite to a man she obviously respected this much.

"And to meet you, Mister Queen," Alfred told him. "You have almost twenty minutes to fill, Miss Ashlea, until dinner. If you are planning to take Mister Queen on a tour, be mindful of the upper east wing; the contractors left warning that both plaster and paint needed to set."

"Yes, Alfred." Ashlea led Oliver back out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. "He handles everything that isn't the company," she confided. "Leaves me more time to take care of the business."

"Has to be wonderful," Oliver said, quiet and honest. "Never have been able to keep anyone around for long -- guess I'm just too much of a handful," he said with a wry shrug. 

Ashlea gave him a smirk. "I do read the papers, Oliver," she teased. She kept that in mind; he was a reckless, feckless, love-them-and-leave-them playboy by all accounts. Still, the paparazzi of Gotham thought Ashlea herself was a ditzy, flirtatious debutante playing at adulthood.

"That doesn't surprise me a bit, Ashlea," he said with a quick smile, while his eyes flicked across her, "but you'd know better than most, just how wrong the papers can be sometimes..."

//Smooth...// She tipped her head just slightly, letting her eyes inspect him wordlessly. "There's often at least a grain of truth, if you can sift to it." Why, in all of creation, did she feel like flirting with this business partner? Oh, wait, Harvey had set her independence hackles up -- again, and she'd thought she'd knocked that out of him when he was still in college! 

"Even a few, sometimes," Oliver agreed, his mouth quirking in another, slightly slower smile. //In for a penny, in for a pound...// "Like, they say I'm impetuous and reckless -- truth there. So are you going to show me the door, instead of your home, if I admit that I'm damned attracted to you?" 

That was not what Ashlea had expected him to say, for him to jump that far, but she could roll with it. "There are quite a few doors on the tour... including the master bedroom," she replied just as brazenly. He... was damned attractive, and the night before had taught her more about him than the collaboration on business. Plus, he was leaving, and that gave her the added benefit of a one night stand that actually didn't have repercussions to truly worry about. 

He smiled instantly, appreciating that brazen answer, her completely steady reply. Hell of a gamble, and it... just might have paid off exactly the way he was hoping for. "Have to say, we might want to keep that _particular_ door for after whatever that fantastic-smelling meal is going to be?" 

"That might be best." Ashlea gave him a look that pinned him back, stripped him down, and left him knowing Ashlea knew her mind. "You're going to need the calories."

"...no doubt of that," he agreed, his nerves plucked like someone had just snapped a off a shot, the reverberations still jangling in the air. That look -- good _lord_ , this was going to be one hell of an evening. He couldn't wait -- the seventeen minutes, and then dinner, were going to feel like a lifetime. 

"Now, I believe I was showing you my home," Ashlea said with just as much ease switching back from naked sensuality to that as she had gone from stripping Harvey's aggression to business.

"...yeah, you were," Oliver agreed, settling in to walk with her again, drawing her into a discussion of some of the art on the walls, of what the latest renovation had been and why...

She fell into that easily, and had the tour ending in the smaller dining room on time for Alfred to serve them. He had the education, the background, and yet... only one small disappearance. How had this man made himself into the Archer? Ashlea let that one stay in the back of her mind even as she decided the meal would make an excellent form of foreplay.

Oliver was impressed with the clock in her head -- he'd had to work his ass off to get the sense of time he had now, and he'd found it really wasn't a natural skill for most people -- and he settled to the table with her. 

"I think Alfred outdid himself again," Ashlea said as she eyed her plate with delight. "A toast first?" she offered, once Alfred had come back in to pour drinks. "For the future of our venture, of course," she said, though her eyes said more than business ventures.

"I can always drink to success," he agreed and reached to lightly tap his glass against hers, listening to the soft chime of the crystal. The wine in his glass... oh, that deserved a long, slow savor. He was no sommelier, he couldn't identify it just by scent and taste, but it was good, an edge of sweet along with the rich, deep bite... 

She wet her lips on the wine, taking that first sip to enjoy, while her eyes floated over her partner's features. He let his enjoyment of the wine show in such beautiful ways. "You certainly have such a surety that we will have success," she said once he could speak, letting her pitch caress along his ears.

"Thinking you're going to fail puts you already halfway there, doesn't it?" he asked as he opened his eyes to look at her, tipping his head to the side a little. "We put a sound proposal together for tomorrow, and you seem like you get your way..." '

"Always, when it matters to me," Ashlea purred at him before taking more of a swallow, closing her eyes and tipping her head back just enough. The faintest sound of pleasure escaped her throat, well aware he was watching her.

//God _damn_ , but she's beautiful...// Oliver thought, and he didn't try to keep the appreciation off his face at all. "Well, then," he said, smile on his lips that didn't actually hide the trace of roughness in his voice. "And didn't I mention earlier that I really like your priorities?" 

She set her glass down carefully and nodded once. "You did. It makes it so much more pleasurable to move forward with the venture to know you share my tastes." She picked up her utensils then, so she could sample the tender vegetables in the light sauce.

//...Queen, I think you're in trouble. Yeah, but I'm gonna enjoy the hell out of it,// he thought, smacking his good sense off to the side for later, while he decided he'd better try the first course as well. "...oh, my," he said, after that first bite. "This -- this is fantastic. And you get to eat like this all the time?" 

"On my nights in," she answered. "I try not to make them too frequent; Alfred deserves his quieter nights." She took her time with the food, as she did appreciate all of Alfred's attempts to stay on top of her appetite. Plus, she loved the way Oliver's eyes kept straying more to her lips. Tonight, she decided, was going to be about enjoying something uncomplicated.

"Then I'm doubly flattered that you were willing to share a night like this with me," Oliver said, knowing that she was playing with him just as much as she was enjoying the meal she was slowly taking apart -- but it was wonderful, she was gorgeous, and he was more than enjoying both. If he watched the way her fingers wrapped around the stem of her wineglass, or the way her lips wrapped around her fork more than he was actually paying attention to the food... he was pretty sure no-one could blame him. 

She watched him take his next bite before speaking. "Oh, I have no doubt you _will_ make this night worth remembering for more than just food," she told him.

He did _not_ choke on the food, or even cough, though he was grateful her... whatever-Alfred-was... wasn't in the room at the moment. "I do aim to be memorable," he said once he'd convinced the food down the right pipe. 

She laughed merrily at that reaction, but without an ounce of malice. "We'll just have to keep the target moving, then, to further add a challenge?" //You're never going to keep a secret ID, but you are cute.//

"Every time I think I _might_ score a point here, you go me one better," Oliver said, his eyes rueful and his mouth all amused, "but yeah, I like a challenge." 

"So do I," she told him with a little heat and a lot of smoke. 

He smiled back at her, quick and sharp and brightly delighted with all that heat, all that smoke and dare and promise, "Glad to hear it. Damn, but you're gorgeous." 

She took her time to look him over again, and then gave a little smile. "I believe I found a good match then," she told him. "All that muscle... you take working out seriously, Oliver?"

He shook his head, sobering a little. "Not really the working out I take seriously," he answered, a little more honestly than he would with anyone that didn't know life in the paparazzi's eyes. "Winding up with nothing but me to throw against the elements... let's just say I don't actually recommend living _The Hatchet_ , but it will teach you a lot. Especially about taking care of yourself." 

"Taking care of yourself... or others, once you have them back around you?" Ashlea asked, not unaware that she felt something in her soften toward the man.

He nodded a little, something not quite a smile on his lips. "Yeah. ...life is -- it's precious, you know? So incredibly fragile, but -- oh, never mind me, I loathed philosophy and I'd really rather it stay that way." 

Ashlea gave him a warmer smile, hand snaking over to rest on his a moment. "I get it, Oliver." She'd never forgotten the moment of loss, even as her situation prevented her from ever letting people get that close to her to fill the void. "Let's just eat for now... and then we'll continue enjoying ourselves after."

He nodded, turning his hand up underneath of hers to catch her fingers for a moment. "Sounds like a plan to me -- besides, this meal is far too good, and the company much too excellent, to be maudlin over." 

"Why be maudlin when we can be merry?" she asked as she caressed his fingertips as she drew back... noting the faint callouses there. //Shoots from either hand.// The fact stuck in the back of her mind, adding to the data she had on him even as she realized she truly hoped the Emerald Archer was all he was seeming to be on the human level.

"See? I _knew_ I liked your priorities," Oliver said, flashing her a truly brilliant smile as he shook off the shadows remembering why he pushed himself so hard always brought, trying to put them away underneath his familiar, playfully flirtatious self. "Sure rather be merry any day -- or night, I guess it is now." 

She noted the shadows despite his best attempt, and decided that it would be a good idea to give him a lifeline. With intent to push his demons away, Ashlea leaned in and stole a kiss from him.

He leaned into that, kissing her back, tasting the meal and the wine on her lips and just _her_ under it, carefully tangling his fingers back into hers. She was almost as pushy with the kiss as he'd seen her be before, and that... oh, that was good. 

She licked into his mouth, then bit his bottom lip slightly before pulling back. "Tasty," she purred.

He followed that nip for a moment, then smiled at her. "Very, very definitely," he said as he stretched to see if he could coax another kiss from her. 

"I seem to remember telling you you'd need your calories," she told him, denying him... with that hint of a playful spirit in her eyes over it.

He sank back in the chair -- just a little -- at her look and the words, grinning at her. "So you did, and I've been eating," he pointed out, looking down at his mostly-demolished plate. "though I guess there are more courses hiding somewhere?" 

"Everything but dessert," she promised him -- before finishing off her own plate in time for Alfred to bring the next serving in. Her eyes danced merrily as Alfred's entry forestalled any retort that would have been scandalous.

Oliver had to bite into his lip to keep commentary about just exactly what dessert could be, and he let himself shoot the merrily delighted light in her eyes a mock-frustrated look. 

Very tender prime rib in au jus with fresh, hot rolls for sopping were the reward for his restraint.

"Will there be anything else, Miss Ashlea?" Alfred asked her.

"No, Alfred. I think I can see to my guest personally after the meal. Thank you." She said it with a completely straight face, no nuance on the words... and Alfred merely inclined his head and left them alone again.

Oliver just shook his head once the older man was out of the room, incredibly amused at just how much of a poker face she'd managed, and he said, half under his breath, "Oh, I just bet you can..." 

"Will," Ashlea promised firmly before cutting delicately into her meat.

That firm, steady voice jarred a shiver out of him, fanning the flames right back up from where they'd been at least a little banked, and he took a slow breath before he focused on that main course in front of him. It was absolutely delicious beef, rich and tender and with a perfect edge of sweet.... and those rolls were just about as good as anything he'd ever had. 

Ashlea didn't hold off from the rolls, using them to sop all of the au jus left behind; her appetites were running high this night. She had a feeling that Batman wasn't going to make an appearance until after midnight... and maybe not then if Oliver offered an encore performance. 

Finishing off the prime rib, Oliver glanced at her, watching as she finished off the last bite of a roll, then quirked an eyebrow at her. "Didn't you mention something about dessert?" 

"So I did," Ashlea said, putting her napkin on her plate to lead him out of the dining room and back to her rooms. She walked with confidence, fully admitting to her desires and letting him know it. "You may have to work for it," she did tease him in the hall near her door.

"Don't let it get out," Oliver replied, watching the sway of her hips with a lot of want and even more appreciation, "but I don't actually mind working for what's worth it..." 

"Well worth it in this case, Oliver," she promised, flipping the light on as she entered her room, waiting for him to get inside. She shut the door behind them before stalking him and catching his face between her hands. This kiss was pure demand, staking a claim for more to follow, body to body as it went on.

Her hands were more solid than he would have expected, strong and hard and absolutely intent, and he felt as thoroughly pinned as if she'd pushed him back against the door, just from the scalding heat of her kiss and the press of her body against his. He slid his arms around her waist, hands curving around her hips. So warm under the cool of the broadcloth skirt she wore, and -- if the faint perfume she wore wasn't exclusive, he bought his cologne at the corner drugstore. Musky, for a woman's perfume, and.. 

...hardly touched by the scent of make-up that he had grown used to. But then, he'd already realized she used only the bare minimum of that to achieve the perfect 'natural' look so in vogue right now. She carded one hand up through his hair, keeping him where she wanted him, before reaching up to release the clip keeping her own hair confined to the professional bun.

It fell longer than he'd have expected, he realized as ends of it brushed against his arms -- and that hand in his hair made him moan just a little into the kiss. He kept kissing her, wanting, and pressed closer. There was an _incredibly_ solid body under that business skirt and silk blouse, unless his arms were completely deceiving him... and he was pretty sure they weren't. He wanted to see the fall of her hair, if it was all riotous curls or a long, straight black sheet... but that would take her not kissing him, so it could definitely wait. 

With a satisfied moan, Ashlea did finally let him have some space, her eyes lazy-lidded. "Full points for kissing," she purred, shifting back from him. "Now..." She tipped her head to the side to watch him. "How many for what's hiding under that Dior shirt?"

That look on her face was absolutely satisfying, and then her words startled a moment's laugh out of him, while he made himself let go of her hips to undo his cuffs and reach for his already-loosened tie and top buttons. "You'll have to tell me," he said, amused, "but I don't often get complaints."

"I can be a demanding judge," Ashlea warned, moving toward the bed but keeping her eyes on him the whole while. She slipped out of her shoes as she did. "But I think I won't be disappointed, as solid as you felt while I kissed you."

He chuckled softly, making quick work of the buttons of his shirt before he let it, and the tie, hit the floor, cocking his head just a little bit in her direction while he stood on the heels of each loafer to come out of them. "And the lady says?"

"Hmm..." //Broad, strong, toned... damned gorgeous. Forget sometimes how pale skin can get... // She crooked a finger at him to come closer. "Need to test the empirical evidence more closely before I deliver a report," she told him.

He followed that crook of her finger, half-smiling at that almost-abstracted tone in her voice, and he reached out for her once he was close enough _to_ touch her, his hands skimming along the silk of her top. He'd rarely met _anyone_ that radiated control and self-confidence the way Ashlea did, and it was one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen. So much power, in such a feminine -- if statuesque -- figure... damn, just _damn_. 

She rested one hand on his hip, then took her time running the other along those sculpted planes. Oliver Queen was every bit the Adonis that his paparazzi dubbed him, with hardly an ounce of spare flesh over solid muscles. She changed her touch from finger tips to nails, lightly grazing them along his ribs as she gave him a slow, wicked smile. "Gorgeous," she decreed, then she moved to undo her own blouse, working from the bottom button upwards just inside his space.

He pressed into the brushes of her fingertips, more into the strokes of her nails, and his breath stuttered for a moment at the slow, wicked smile on her lips as she breathed that compliment. He smiled for it -- he knew damned well just how gorgeous by most standards he was, and he'd never seen a point in false modesty. Then her hands were working their way up her shirt, backs of her fingers against his chest, and he slid his hands just inside the opened blouse, working the silk up out from under the broadcloth hem of her skirt. 

She stopped opening her buttons immediately and moved to catch his hands, pushing them down even as her face took on a stern demeanor. "No, Oliver. You wait until I tell you to touch."

He didn't fight her catching his hands, didn't even try to keep her skin under his fingertips -- he didn't want to, he truly didn't -- and his breath caught in his throat at the expression on her face and that firm, sharp-edged tone. "Just trying to help, Ashlea," he answered, low and soft, while his fingertips brushed against the hem of her skirt again. 

He barely even knew what she was doing to him, why he was so damned hungry for the way she pushed and controlled -- but god it was good. 

"Oh you're helping me just fine, Oliver," she breathed, leaning into bruise his lips with another demanding kiss. When she let go of the kiss, her fingers went back to her buttons. "I want you to show me you can ... wait for your rewards."

He laughed, quiet and just a little unsteady, his hands settled back on her skirt. Wait? Not really something he was great at, but... telling her anything but 'yes' was not an option right now. "Not really one of my best-known traits, but I've got a hell of a lot of incentive right now, so..." 

"Yes you do," Ashlea assured him, working the buttons loose little by little. She shifted just enough to be able to unbutton each wrist... slowly... fabric of her shirt covering all but a hint of the satin of the bra beneath it. When she did let the shirt fall away, Oliver could see muscle and smooth skin obscured by the solid yet sexy bra Ashlea preferred. "Well-matched?" she challenged him. Her musculature was not as dominant as his, but it was there, sliding under her skin to the eyes of a fellow athlete.

He couldn't say anything for a moment, his eyes fixed on all of her lightly-tanned skin, the -- muscles, harder and more developed than he would ever have expected. No soft society girl this, no matter how smooth her hands were. She was glorious, absolutely stunning... and she'd asked him a question. "Hell, yes." His hands ached to touch her, to run his hands over all of that skin and the powerful muscle under it, feel the silk of that black hair against his fingertips, his wrists, wanted to kiss her, taste her skin -- but they didn't move at all. 

"Pants," she told him with a glint in her eyes. "And then I want you up on the bed, so I can how you look against my pillows."

He let his hands drop off her skin and back to his own waist, wrist working to pop the belt and get the button and zipper of his slacks, but he quirked a smile at her. "Everything, or just the slacks?" 

She wouldn't be the first woman he'd met that enjoyed that one last layer of fabric to tease through... 

She gave him a wicked smile. "I want to see the whole package, Oliver... everything I feel like investing in." That there would be more meetings in the future flitted through her mind, then was set to the side and left to chew on later.

That got both a flash of a smile and another quick, soft laugh from him before he stripped down, slacks, briefs, dropping down to strip off his socks while he was at it, before he moved to the bed and dropped back against the comforter and the pillows, looking up at her, watching her reaction... 

She let her eyes start at his hair, then work down along his face, his chest, and down along those muscled thighs and hard-shaped calves before coming back up to his cock. When she finished surveying him, she turned her attention back to his face. "Nice goods. Looks damn good against my bed," she informed him in a possessive tone. Her fingers shifted to the catch of her skirt, pushing it down in the next moment, leaving her in stockings, panties, and bra.

Her long, raking, almost devouring gaze made him shudder, his eyes on her face -- and that approval made his blood heat even more, his cock twitching with want. Then she was sliding off her skirt, and oh, he wanted. He wanted to touch her, see what she was still keeping hidden under those pretty stockings and bra, but he couldn't resist the urge to say, all amused, "Ashlea, I look good anywhere you want to put me." 

"Might test that later, since your looks would complement the tile in my shower," Ashlea told him with a flirting smile. She leaned down to roll the stockings off, debated keeping the lingerie for now... and discarded the notion by pushing first the panties off and then unhooking the bra. She wanted the feel of him skin to skin, wanted to touch him as intimately as she could. There was something about his every reaction to her that was making her hungry to follow through for far more.

"...sounds like a plan," Oliver answered, watching her strip. There was something incredibly erotic about her pure composure, that she wasn't even vaguely shy, was blatantly confident in herself -- he swallowed hard, watching the slight sway of her breasts and the shift of her hips as she moved towards the bed -- and he tightened his fingers in the fabric under him to keep from reaching up for her. 

She noted that small motion, and her lips twitched in a smile. "Good, Oliver... very good," she praised, moving up along his body. She paused part way up... head dipping down to catch his very male scent, clean and roughened only by the time they'd spent flirting at dinner and Oliver's own reaction to her handling Harvey the way she had. She rewarded him for that, for his restraint, with a quick brush of a kiss along his thigh, up to his hip, and then kept moving to rest along his frame.

He shuddered, dropping some of his weight back onto his hips, his shoulders, keeping his body pinned back against her bed, that brief brush of her lips feeling more like a brand than just a kiss... and then she was lying _on_ him, all of her hard-muscled, warm body over his. Her skin was so soft, all the softer for the at-rest muscle he could feel just under it... "Trying," he told her, quiet, while his mouth ached to kiss her. 

"Won't make you regret it," she promised him. She dipped in to claim his mouth, her left hand sliding down to grip his wrist and pull it up even with his head as she did. She was firmly in control here... and that had her whole body on fire where it touched this man's skin. This man, who was dedicated, had given himself to a grander fight for people than most ever suspected possible, was fast falling into a small part of her soul reserved for trusting.

He kissed her back, intent and wanting, even as her fingers wrapped around his wrist and dragged his hand where she wanted it. Up by his head, making him feel just that edge of extra vulnerability. He shifted his hand against her grip -- and that test didn't shift her at all, didn't move his wrist. Want slammed down through him like he'd grabbed a live wire, muscles from fingertip to toe-tip spasming. 

"Mine tonight, Oliver," she murmured as she moved to his ear, biting the lobe lightly. "You want this, want me... and I will have you."

"God, yes," he said against her cheek, pressing up into that light nip, the weight of her solid, hard-muscled body matching how tight her nipples were drawn, but both were a breathtaking contrast against the softness of her breasts and her skin... 

She ran her free hand into his hair, kissing him hungrily, even as she kept his other hand pinned. So easy to just slide along his body, all those hard muscles beneath her, obeying her... and that awareness made her squeeze his pinned wrist with anticipation. The way it felt to know she was completely in charge as she used friction to build the fires was intoxicating.

He moaned into the kiss at that slide of her body along his, his mouth opening under hers as she tightened her hand on his wrist. She -- oh, oh _god_ she felt good. He caught at the sheets with his still-free hand, making himself not grab up for her, not try to lock her hips in place or pull her tighter, but he couldn't stop the way his hips pushed up against her, his cock dragging along the skin of her abs... 

"mmm," Ashlea purred, sliding away from his mouth to his jawline. "So eager, Oliver...." She parted from him enough to settle against his thigh, so she could tease herself, but also reach down for him. He was solid in her hand, hard and ready, but she took time to caress his cock with her fingertips, knowing it was driving him wild to be made to wait.

He moaned, low, and then her fingertips were tracing over his cock, sharp, short nails and slightly-callused fingertips -- that caught him for a moment, why were her hands callused? -- brushing over him. His hips bucked up under her touch, even as he turned his jaw into her mouth, arching his throat a little. "Think -- I'd have to be dead _not_ to be, Ashlea," he pointed out, heel bracing against the bed to push his thigh up against the slick, almost-scalding heat pressed down on him. He could almost feel her pulse there, and knowing she _wanted_ him... 

She laughed softly, a warm sound of pleasure, and rode that offered pressure of his thigh. That throat was just as tempting, though, and she kissed there... realized it was too high above the collar, and moved lower. Now she took her time, kissing and biting along his lower throat and collarbone, leaving marks that made her feel more possessive than ever. 

"It will only be la petite morte," she promised him as her hand slid down to play with his sac, finger massaging just behind the base of his cock.

"No doubt," he said, more than a little shakily as she bit him, just barely low enough for his collars to hide. Her hand sliding down like that made his body shift, his free leg move -- and _he_ wasn't quite sure if it was to avoid or push into... 

She didn't push further, just caressing there before she lazily brought her hand up along his cock again. She used her thumb to caress the tip, fingers still along the length, as she found one nipple to tease and torture, just to see how sensitive he was there.

Her hand slid away and he half-whined in the moment before her touch was back on his length, her lips and teeth on a nipple enough to make him jump a little, arch into it in the next breath...

"Love the way you move, Oliver," she told him, pushing herself down harder against his thigh at the insistent ache she felt. "Going to move so well when I take you in, ride you hard?" she asked him, thumb rubbing at the ridge scar on the head of his cock.

He rocked up against her, loving the feel of her pressing that tight to him -- and then she paired those words with that touch and he shuddered, trying to wrap his fingers around her hand pinning his to the bed. "Ash, Christ, please..." 

Ashlea gave him a wicked smile, then turned away, rolling from him -- without losing that grip on his wrist -- to acquire a small packet from the bedside table. She felt the loss of all his skin, and the pressure of his body beneath her keenly, listening for how it affected him.

Cold. Everywhere the air suddenly hit him was just _cold_ and he tried to bite back the unhappy whine at the loss of her heat, the pressure of her body, his eyes tracking her move -- oh, oh, that was why, it was fine, he should have known she'd be that smart. His skin had shuddered with the sudden chill and loss before he knew it, and he sucked a breath while he had the chance. She was too damned far away. 

//Mine.// The thought was unbidden, but something in the way he had reacted stirred her. Not to control his every move, but to ... have him, like this, and be responsible for him when he needed it. //Brain, we are not adopting a pet,// she scolded herself, but the truth was that she could not get that packet open fast enough, or get him dressed in the condom quick enough to suit.

He'd have moved to help, but she was handling things quick and easy -- he was going to be seeing that catch of the packet in her teeth and the easy way she handled the condom and him in his _sleep_ , he was damned sure. The different, more distant feel of her hand through the latex wasn't his favorite thing, but it was just one of those things to live with. "Ashlea..."  
Hell, he didn't even know what he wanted to say, what he was trying for -- just knew how much he wanted her. 

She leaned in to kiss him, hushing his attempt at words, even as she flowed up and over him. Now she caught his other hand, tangling their fingers rather than just holding his wrist. Long, slow slide of getting his cock caught by her wet, hot cleft... and then she moved slowly, not actually taking him in, but teasing him yet a little more with the hinted promise of that union.

He kissed her, his hand tangling through hers, grabbing on tight -- wait, would he hurt her? He loosed his grip for a moment, but her hold was hard, strong enough to match him, and he caught back on -- as her weight on his hips and the way she was settled kept the sharp buck of his hips from doing anything but teasing him even more. Pressure, heat, all of her slick, the brush of her black curls against his skin -- he couldn't keep the half-whimper, half-moan back. 

She licked into his mouth, tasting him, wondering how that mouth would feel later, in the shower or the Jacuzzi... and she let go of his mouth just as she finally gave them both the relief they wanted, sliding so that he was inside her, filling her. Damn, but he felt good. "Oliver," she moaned, voice gone light with pleasure. She began rocking, keeping it slow... but there wasn't a thing that was truly gentle about her annexation of his body. She held his hands tightly, kept her thighs tightened around him for leverage, and reinforced her possession of him at every move.

"Ash, Ashlea, oh, _Christ_ ," he only half-heard himself, a little too light-headed to really pay attention, nothing in the world quite real except the feel of her weight on him, her body wrapped around him, the absolute control in every move -- but at least he could move with her. He could move with her, for her, letting himself arch against where she was holding him down against the bed. This wasn't really like _anything_ else, not -- this was just her, and it felt like the most right thing in the world. 

"Merely mortal, no touch of the divine," she breathed against his ear as she leaned down, her hair a curtain around their faces. Every trick of making this last, every conscious command of her body was falling into place. She wanted to take him, and herself, as far into this as humanly possible, wanted to feel him give way for her, let her coax him back to earth as she rode out his pleasure.

He couldn't see anything but her, the black silk of her hair everywhere that wasn't her face, every breath he caught full of the scent of their sweat and breath, touch of her perfume, and -- the feel of her. She knew so perfectly what she was doing, he could feel the way she was still so in control of every shift of her hips, every brush of her nipples against his chest... She tightened around him in a ripple and he clung to her hands, trying to grab some scrap of his own control, to last for her -- he hadn't felt this goddamned overwhelmed since he was fifteen.

She was inhaling him, all musk and male and sweat in the best ways. There was nothing about him that set her on edge; she had his measure as a man. He believed in people, took his point of power seriously as a tool to protect and help. Those things rolled into his sheer masculine presence, binding her in a solid attraction not unlike what she saw in Harvey, and yet... this was different. The way Oliver seemed to urge her into controlling it, the way her own mind and body wanted to keep control, was so new.

"Oliver," she whispered as her hands tightened in an effort to hold on, some endless time later. "Oliver, I want you... to let go... now."

His eyes snapped open at his name -- when had he closed them? -- finding hers, her gaze burning blue, determined and demanding, and her words snapped his control like she'd loosed an arrow. His breath and sense left him at once, his hips snapping up hard against hers as he lost everything but the feel of his own pleasure. 

//So damn pretty...// She could not see him as anything but, lost in the complete loss of control and sense of self, all tangled up in her, and she gave up holding back her own. She rocked hard against his bucking hips, wordlessly moving his hands toward her hips, where instinct took hold and she felt those strong hands anchor her as she spilled into sensation, primal self, no thought or Ego.

He realized she was moving his hands and he blinked, getting just a little of his sense back -- just in time to watch the way she threw her head back, her entire body one rapturous, glorious line of passion and release, her hair around her shoulders spilling over her breasts and down her back both... He could feel her clenching around him, her body locked to his -- She could claim purely mortal all she wanted, right now he was sure he didn't agree. 

Slowly she came back, opening her eyes to look down at her lover... seeing that rapture still on his face, the wonder with which he watched her, and she came back down to hold him, hands sliding under his shoulders. "I have you," she murmured as the motion set off the smaller aftershocks for him... and her. They'd need to move soon, take care of the condom... but for just this moment, she held him tight and breathed slowly through the aftermath of an intensity she'd never seen coming.

He held on as she draped down over him, the shift making him shake -- and the solid weight of her body over him was... soothing, steadying. Easier to breathe, with her hands under his shoulders, his hands sliding a little more around her waist to hold on. She -- she did have him, more than he'd had any idea about, and he pressed his cheek against her hair. "Yeah," he agreed, soft. Had to move, soon, but she'd know that... 

With the gentlest kiss of the night, Ashlea brushed her lips across his throat, and then shifted, automatically reaching to help deal with the necessary protection. She lounged up on her side, then, hair falling to one side, as she surveyed him. "You were amazing, Oliver."

He _hated_ losing the skin-to-skin press of her body, but it was just flat necessary. He kept the shiver back at the renewed wash of cold, but then she was talking to him, drawing his attention, and he shook his head just a little. "Think that was _you_ , Ashlea. That -- I --" He was damned lost for words, and he wanted to burrow in against her skin again, but that near-predatory lounge kept him still and watching her. 

She reached out and ran a hand down his chest and hip. "We were good," she conceded, before coming back to rest on her own pillow, sliding an arm under his neck. "Come here," she added, firmly, intent on keeping him close until they had the strength for a shower... together.

"Damned good," he agreed with that, then shifted to stretch out against her, one hand spreading across her -- incredibly defined -- abs, his head settling onto her shoulder. Backwards from normal, strange, but... so very right-feeling, too. After what had just happened, he couldn't even imagine trying to be the one holding _her_ in close. "And you're incredibly gorgeous."

"I told you, well-matched," she purred at him, tucking his head under her chin, reveling in the quiet of her soul now that she'd found something she never knew she needed.

"...yeah," he said, settling in against the long, solid lines of her body. An edge of his mind wanted to poke at what the _hell_ had just happened, to try and take it apart and figure out what he'd been _thinking_ \-- but he was far too comfortable, and too sated, to indulge it right now. 

She let the silence collect around them, then pushed a kiss against his sweat damp blond hair. "Jacuzzi or shower? Your choice, as my ... very ... spoiled guest," she teased him softly.

He blinked against her shoulder, humming a quietly thoughtful note for a moment. "Shower to clean up, Jacuzzi to soak if you feel like indulging that much?" 

She laughed a little. "Oliver, I think I am looking forward to indulging you that much." //And more, if this holds up to the distance.// That startled Ashlea, all the way down to her soul, but she locked it down for future analysis.

He lifted his head enough to smile at her then, his eyes warmly lazy. "The only problem with this plan is it means moving -- and I'm not sure I'm going to manage walking just yet..."

"I'd hope not... But then, I'm planning on making you more boneless yet," she promised him, pleased by the way he shivered and looked hopeful.


End file.
